American Hi-Fi A Taste For Crime
As the tires hit the road,
I can never gapem burning snow
on a phantom way,
we ride until we melt and flow
frozen you have chosen to be,
here
so as the misery takes hold,
swallow,drink it down.
it doesne't seem to hurt as much,
until you hit the ground.
follow me,we'll hide behind the sun.
the sky is breaking through,
the universe will fight to shine.
beneath the dying moon,
we run we're on a taste for crime
broken we are spoken,become our blue
